Chapter IVAt the very least about children’s rebuses, programming of the future, a metal flask, and Tymofiy.
My bedroom had the look of the back of a person sick with bronchitis, whom a caring mommie covered with mustard plasters. Along the walls, on the floor and even on the ceiling someone (I’m saying “someone,” in truth I really understood, that the little monster Emile had done this) had glued, at first glance, clean, white sheets of paper. But when I approached the first of them, then I saw that something had been scribbled on the sheets. On the one that impudently paved my wall opposite the bed was written: “Nona. Goddess of Nocturnal Emissions.”
I filled up my glass and my plate with the sliced apple, which already had managed to rust, and began to look over everything all around.
